walking

to s.

perhaps it was all
the city (in)formed
by how we walked
calvino or de certeau
where lines spoke of
a journey that straddled
between beethoven’s 5th
y mi unicornio azul
del otro s

yes the one you picked
that breathed a sent(i)ence
embracing lasting familiarity

if you read the traces already
inscribed into more than
a lifetime of practice
wandering under frangipanis
and muqarnas and
asking how it could have been
that on the roof
in between the waxing crescent
and pyrotechnics in someone’s honour

that only lulu would have
understood how I was
as invisible as the city

i now know that
beato paulo told you
what he couldn’t tell me
but why didn’t you tell me
that you knew it was
all along
a culmination of oraçãos
histories and becomings
a polyvocal text

an incessant reverie
i still need to awake from
and for some reason

I do not wish to
d.